


New meet-cute: getting robbed

by CakePan



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Developing Friendships, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 23:29:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 12,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9687119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CakePan/pseuds/CakePan
Summary: I'll change the title to something better don't you worry kidsHamilton is stuck in a dead end job at the grocer’s, left behind to only hope of working hard enough to succeed and achieve his dreams. Luckily (or unluckily, depending on how you view it), a misdemeanor changes his life and leaves him pining for something a lot more.Slow burn lams so get out the popcorn folks and be prepared to scream. It's going to be a smitten hamilton at first (which I'm surprised I haven't seen (or dug out) yet).First work in this fandom! A secret agents AU not *gasp* dependent on the CIA? I know, omg how can this happen? If you've ever read a legacy of ashes, the history of the CIA by Tim Weiner(pft weiner like wiener sorry) you'll know why. If you haven't, you should! It's a wonderful but kind of dry book on the CIA but not necessary for this work! enjoy and tell me if I suck :')





	1. At least he didn't have a gun (lmao)

The weather was cold and grey. Alexander Hamilton walked from the grocer’s to his apartment in distress and disarray, reminded for the twenty-third time that he was cut out for so much _more_. There are far worse jobs than customer service, but he has yet to hear about them. He skipped the bus stop to cut through the park, where most of his thinking took place.

The park was cold and grey. Not surprising, considering that he was wrapped in two jackets and a vest, and he lived in New York. The fountain even had a nice touch of fast food wrappers to emulate the fact.

He began thinking.

“If I were to work a little bit harder financially, I could move to a better neighbourhood. A better neighbourhood would yield a better job with my credentials, and then…” He could see his breath fog before him. It took him a moment to realize he was talking aloud again.

A rather attractive stranger caught his eye. His face flushed, realizing that to the world he seemed like a crazed lunatic or at the very least, a very stupid stranger. And now the stranger was walking and _oh god they were coming this way and-_

Their faces were way, _way_ y too close. This is the fastest he’s ever gotten it with someone, not counting that one drunk guy at that college party in Kingston and-

Right. Kissing.

  _And now getting felt up and that’s a hand on the waist hand on waist!_ He opened his eyes (he had forgotten that he closed them) and saw into the depths of the brownest eyes he had ever seen. They were devious-looking and the guy was smiling into the kiss now (but it was still nice, god _damn_ ) but he could write _pages upon pages of poetry_ just for those eyes. Just for him.

And now the stranger was pulling away and Alex nearly followed through before pausing. He opened his mouth and.

Ah.

The stranger was booking it.

Typical. This probably set the record for fastest escape without the trouble of having a relationship, not (again) counting that one drunk guy, who had realized that he was straight before apologizing profusely and running back to his girlfriend. Hamilton shouldn’t be getting used to these events, but after the shock had worn off he really couldn’t feel anything other than vague confusion.

But that kiss made him feel a whole lot more than vague confusion. It took all of his strength to not start yelling in the middle of an abandoned park for all the trees and squirrels to hear.  He did, however, raise one hand to his shaking lips and feel his whole body quiver like a leaf in the wind with longing to join something, to _move_ to wherever the wind was blowing.  

Then he patted his pockets to realize his wallet was gone. That was when he really started yelling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also it's completely probable that Hamilton gets cold easily because. Lmao same :')  
> I'm. This chapter is not final it's going to constantly change and I am #sorry but I am too impatient to keep it so have the burnt egg bits of this fic omlette


	2. god damn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More exposition? More exposition. Modern day worldbuilding...  
> I'm just winging this but there will definitely be an ending because I already wrote the last chapter but not the ones in between #nice.  
> ALSO I have forgotten to mention that children you shouldn't kiss strangers on the street even if you need to steal their wallets because it's bad manners and sexual harassment. And you'll be arrested. But for the sake of this fic... welp

As Alex climbed up the rickety, rusty stairs to his apartment he quietly raged about the stranger. About his stupid curly hair and freckles and eyes and that _f*cking kiss…_

“Jeez, Hamilton. Can you keep it down just a bit? Some of us were enjoying the beautiful quiet of the snow.” Said a voice from behind the door.

“Sorry, sorry. What are you, my _nouvelle_ wife coming to welcome me back home after a long day of work?” Alex barely registered what he had said. Banter becomes old after a few years, and he has known his roommate for a bit more than that.

“Psh. You wish. Want to come in sometime?” The voice changed from its usual deep timbre to a high, mocking tone. Alex would’ve sworn that he saw the flash of a leg through the foggy door window.

“I’ll stay out here, thanks.” Alex hugged his coat closer to him. He still needed time to think. Next course of action, next

The door opened, revealing a very large, very concerned looking Hercules Mulligan in a frilly pink apron with bright red fancy script that read “Kiss the chef”. Hamilton couldn’t find the heart in him to laugh.

“I made this apron just for that joke. You know how long it took to find this shade? And then the tailoring was such a pain it nearly had me in stiches…” Hercules paused. Looked at Hamilton. Looked back at the warm yellow glow of the house, sighed, and closed the door.

“Come on, you’ve always hated puns. Any cool comeback? Like…” He put on his best Hamilton voice: gravelly and rushed and a bit too high to be completely accurate.

“Kiss the chef? More like kiss my ass!” He chuckled lamely. “Ok, it’s not great. I’ll admit it.”

He paused again.

“Hey, are you ok?” Hercules asked. He was always the better one with feelings.

“I got mugged.” Alex said. He could barely see his breath now, not like when he was in the park.

“YOU GOT WHAT?!” Hercules was entering a whole other octave at this point. “ARE YOU OK?”

Alex winced. “It’s fine, I’m fine. But I would prefer for the police not to get involved.”

Hercules was near shaking by now. “Why the hell not? Are you ok I’m hereifyouneedsomeone-“

“I’m fine!” Alex interrupted. “It was just… a very humiliating turn of events…”

“Did you get mugged by a five year old? I know you’re small but come on man you could’ve taken them-“

“I got kissed!” Hamilton paused. He could feel blood rushing to his face again. “I got kissed by a very attractive stranger and I can’tbelieveIletmyguarddownsoquicklywhatwasIthinking-“

Hercules raised an eyebrow. It was his suggestive eyebrow and Hamilton could not believe this was happening right now and here it comes…

“Wow they didn’t buy you dinner first?”

“Wow they didn’t buy you dinner first?”

Hercules lowered the eyebrow. “Well, and here I thought I was being spontaneous. What did they look like?”

Hamilton took a deep breath and started “Curly brown hair that had snow in it and usually that makes people look like they have dandruff but he looked incredible somehow and his freckles were so beautiful like a splatter of paint and his eyes, Hercules, his eyes were like the depths of the woods they were so brown and deep I could spend hours just looking into them-“

He stopped.

Hercules looked as white as a sheet.

“Hey, Hercules… are you ok..?”

Hercules shook himself and smiled. A wide, beaming smile.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be? Now excuse me I need to be somewhere… I’ll be right back so don’t worry.”  He said and started climbing up the stairs.

“Hey!” Alex yelled. “Aren’t the neighbours going to be mad?”

Hercules looked back at him. “It’s not a problem! Just go back inside and get warm!”

Hamilton stopped. “What about you?!”

But Hercules was already long gone.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to cry because the fun stuff comes later also I am actually crying right now and I just realized I use commas to pepper sentences and this entire fic is an under-seasoned steak


	3. Happy Valentines day I got you this rock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the same day as in the fic? Wow what a coincidence anyways yeah enjoy children we're switching to mulligans view also sorry I'm gonna have to go back and change and the hercules to mulligans because it looks better and all the alex to hamilton I don't know the protocol here tbh

And now see a man shake each step of the rickety staircase to an apartment that does not belong to him, but to one-

“JOHN LAURENS.”

His voice echoed outside, interrupting the peace of the snowfall. Not like it mattered; hardly anyone lived around the area anymore. It was difficult to even think near the train tracks, and even harder to inhabit anywhere near it.

“YOU. ARE. IN. HUGE TROUBLE.”

There was very little difference between this man’s voice and a particularly loud train whistle. If anyone were to stay still, they would be able to feel the ground shake a tiny bit.

The door opened a crack.

“Password?” A heavy-accented voice asked.

“You know god damn well who I am, Lafayette. Let me the hell in.” The man groused.

“And you know the protocol. Password.” This time it was not a question.

“We don’t have a password.”

The door opened to reveal a tall, beaming man in a swivel chair.

“Exactement. You passed! Congratulations Hercules!” He spun around one, two, three times before being stopped by Mulligan.

“Do you know where Laurens is?” He was getting tired of yelling. It should be left to those who actually want to yell.

The man raised a hand to his mouth quickly, but not quick enough to hide a fractional increase of this smile. His eyes glinted.

“Is he in trouble? I wouldn’t want to rat him out.”

“You heard me yelling his name!” Mulligan was getting tired of these mind games.

“Oh, pardon me but these walls, they are… so thick.”

“Is he at that damn bar again? I told him a million times he’s going to blow our cover but-“

“What cover?” A new voice piped up.

Hercules turned around slowly, quietly, hoping and praying to whatever god that happened to be listening that he had just hallucinated that voice that sounded just like-

“Alexander Hamilton.” Lafayette stood up as if the swivel chair was on fire. “I thought-“

“WHAT COVER?”

Hercules opened his eyes. There was no denying it now. It was Hamilton, still in his coat and most definitely not where he should’ve been. Right in front of him, on the rickety, rusty staircase. There was no protocol for this.

“We have a lot of talking to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're still doing this  
> \ALSO I REALIZED I USED PROTOCOL THREE TIMES LMAO SORRY BUt LIKE ILL CHANGE IT LATER BYE KIDS


	4. I got you this rock for valentines day pt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally we meet the second most important character in this fic... incredible anyways here's a hella drunk Laurens  
> ALSO I would like to apologize about putting Lafayette knowing Hamilton because they should be meeting for the first time... god damn it anyways yeah

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Lafayette stood up, kicking back the swivel chair as he did so. The chair whittled the silence as it sped into the darkness of the apartment.

“You can’t just tell him! Not after all the work we’ve done. Not after-“

Mulligan shut him up with a glare.

He turned back around to look at Hamilton. Hamilton who was still shaking, still red in the face from anger. Hamilton, who didn’t deserve any of what Mulligan was going to put him through.

He breathed in.

“Hamilton.”

“WHAT?” Hamilton’s face was scowling, bitter like the tea he religiously drank every morning.

“I know who stole your wallet.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

Mulligan winced. “I know. It’s just.” He took another breath. “Very, very complicated.”

“Wait, wait.” Lafayette was smiling. “Is this _the Alexander Hamilton_? The one that Burr recommended? Then everything’s just fine! We can just-“

He shut up abruptly and realized that, in fact, they could not just fix the problem. It would take weeks, even months, even eternities to fix the broken trust between Mulligan and Hamilton. And if what Burr said was true, then something had gone very, very wrong.

“Let’s go.” He grabbed his coat and walked, walked past Mulligan, walked past Hamilton. He heard the crunch of snow behind him as they all walked down the stairs.

*

The bar was loud and noisy and dark. The air was thick with the smell of alcohol and smoky lights.

The trio walked up to a lone man nursing a half-pint of beer.

“HEY GUYS!”

Hamilton took a step back. It was the stranger again, but this time with a name. A clear face. And a beautiful, musical voice. His coat now felt too hot for him.

Mulligan took a step forward. “John Laurens. Give me that god damn wallet.”

John Laurens pouted. A real, honest to god pout. A crying five year old could have been given a run for their money. In Hamilton’s opinion, it was a lot cuter on John (no, Laurens, only Laurens. This guy stole his _wallet and now his heart_ no not his heart just his brain what kind of cheesy damnation-).

“Awww… How’d you know? Did Lafayette tell on me?” He turned to Lafayette who was determined to look at a very interesting wall to the left of Laurens.

“ _Mon ami,_ now is not exactly the time for jokes.” He said.

“Come have a drink! I’ll pay!” He laughed. It was compelling and reason enough for Hamilton to plop down beside him.

“I’ll have a pint of Sam Adams.” Hamilton announced. The bartender nodded slightly and soon an amber glass was in front of him.

Laurens looked over and nodded.

“Good taste, my man. We’ll get along.” He picked up his glass and mimed as if he were cheering someone, then chugged the entire thing. He swiped his mouth with his sleeve and leaned towards Hamilton and nearly fell off the bar stool.

“Hey, you look familiar.”

“Of course he looks familiar you idiot, you robbed him!” Mulligan recovered from the shock of Hamilton taking a seat and yelled. The bar was loud as the night crowd flowed in, making it near impossible to be overheard.

Hamilton flushed and waved for another drink. It was going to be a long night.

Laurens shook his head like a wet dog. “That makes sense! Well, all’s well that ends well and all that, right? And this guy,” He hooked an arm around Hamilton’s neck, “is getting his money back in the end! C’mon man, drink up!”

“Hamilton…” Mulligan said, looking at him with warning in his eyes.

“You heard the man Mulligan.” Hamilton was starting to feel giddy, and it was not from the beer. “Drink up!”

Lafayette and Mulligan sat down.

“Alright, only one drink.” Mulligan said, resigned.

*

After five rounds, the night crowd had been filtered down to a few lonesome people. The sense of impending dread and gloom between the quartet had dissipated into nothing, and all four of them were chatting amicably amongst themselves.

“And I says to her, I says-“ Hamilton pauses the storytelling of one of his riveting anecdotes from his college days doing Political Science. “Mulligan, what did I says?” He slurred.

Mulligan was already asleep, head in his arms. Hamilton patted him and continued.

“I says get your own damnéd beer, lady! And I never saw her again.” All three of them laughed very, very loudly. All three of the bar’s occupants looked at them accusingly, then went back to staring at their own drinks.

“That is. The funniest story I’ve heard in my life.” Laurens wiped his eyes, smiling. “What did you think, Gilbert?”

“Je suis d’accord, mon ami. “  Lafayette mumbled from his place on the floor.

“Whatever you say, man.” Laurens grinned, and knocked back another glass.

“Wait.” Hamilton paused, considering the last two seconds of conversation. “Gilbert?”

“I’m not supposed to tell you this, but since we’re such great friends now…” Laurens beckoned him closer, as if to share with him some scandalous secret. “His name is Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, but we call him Lafayette. You know, for short.”

Hamilton closed his eyes and thought. “That makes sense.” He said finally.

“I know! We’re so smart. You should definitely come join us.” Laurens pouted again. “Pleeeeasseee?”

God- _fucking_ -damn. Hamilton was weak. Way too weak for a cute boy with eyes that had a depth unto their own, with hair that looked soft as hell and-

Mulligan was waking up again.

“Alright guys, let’s go!” He slurred.

Both of them paused and stared at Mulligan, who had, at round 3.5, dropped off the face of the earth for all they knew.

“Go where?” Hamilton could feel himself sober up at the thought of leaving the bar and its tasty alcohol and John (no, Laurens. This probably happened a lot for Laurens, being so pretty and all. This night would probably slide off him like water off a duck’s back. But this night would stay and leave trails on Hamilton for a lot, lot longer.).

“To Laurens’ place! It’s close here and I don’t wanna drive.” Mulligan sat straight up and crossed his arms like a toddler throwing a temper-tantrum, ready at any moment. For what, Hamilton didn’t know. Mulligan was clearly drunk off his ass.

“Aww what?” Laurens said. “My apartment hasn’t been prettied up for guests. You know the policy, Hercules. Five hours’ notice.”

“Doesn’t matter. Don’t care about that stupid flower arrangement on your table.  We’re going.” Mulligan said, and got up. Then tripped over Lafayette, and promptly fell asleep.

Laurens chuckled. “Nicee one, Hercules.”

Hamilton sighed. In the end, he had to take care of the situation.

*

Herding his drunk friends was better than herding cats, because they were asleep for the majority of the time. At some point on the walk back (and after getting lost a few times with faulty directions from a sleep-deprived Laurens) Lafayette managed to get enough sense to give Mulligan a break and carry him on his back.

Of course, Laurens had to get the idea that Hamilton could carry him back, too. After a great amount of difficulty, Hamilton finally hefted Laurens on top of him.

“Careful there, Hamilton. Don’t want to limit your growth spurt.” Lafayette giggled. He wasn’t having any trouble, the bastard.

“I’m nineteen.” Hamilton grinned. Usually his height was a sore spot, but with these people he felt a lot warmer. A lot happier. “Plenty of time.”

Lafayette did a double-take. “Dang, and here I thought you were twenty-four. From the way you act, you know?”

Hamilton felt his smile grow bigger. “Thanks. You’re not so bad, yourself. I’m thinking you’re around, ah, twenty-one?”

Lafayette did a neat bow (still carrying Mulligan. Absolutely terrifying) “ _Exactement._ Or, how you Americans say, right on.”

They arrived at the apartment door.

“Well, we made it.” Hamilton said.

Laurens did a weak cheer.

“Lafayette, where are the keys?”

“They should be in his left coat pocket.” Lafayette smirked. “Good time for revenge on your pick picketer, _oui?_

Hamilton did a quiet cheer himself. “Indeed.” He said, and unzipped Laurens’ coat (absolutely not thinking about the implications of it, of where the night could have gone if it went a little bit more differently) and grabbed the keys. They were accented by a charmingly small American flag keychain.

As he opened the door to perhaps the biggest (and messiest) apartment he had ever seen, he had only one thought in mind.

What had he gotten himself into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so tired... some chapters are gonna get fatter and merge together; this friday for the next four days ill probably write more than 500 words... look forward to that so <3 ily all who read this  
> Also. yeah nice chapter lmao I update at like 10:30 EST so if you want to be like. the first then yeah ;)


	5. The morning after

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so we postpone the Mulligan-Hamilton talk to write more fluff.  
> Haha

John Laurens woke up with a throbbing headache and to a familiar ceiling the colour of egg yolk. He waded through the pile of laundry at the foot of the couch he was sleeping on and found his coat, neatly hung on a coat rack. He had somehow gotten back to his apartment while inebriated, taken off his coat and placed it on a coat rack, and covered himself with a blanket. Which was impossible since he didn’t know that he even had a coat rack.

The curtains, which were insufferably expensive, ironically barely blocked the sunlight from filtering through and illuminating the room. He could see two people on his armchairs and Lafayette sprawled on the coffee table with only his upper body being held up. The first person was Mulligan, who took off his shoes (he always insisted on doing so despite constant evidence being shown that there was a high likelihood of his shoes being cleaner than the apartment) and the other-

Oh. The guy he mugged. The events of last night were just coming back to him now.

Wait. The guy he _mugged_? The _guy_ he mugged?

Very, as how Lafayette would say, _etrange_. He walked up to the guy, who was also knocked out cold. If his memory served him correctly, his name was-

Shoot. However many rounds they had and they didn’t even introduce themselves to each other? His southern charms were really getting replaced by the New York City charm of indifference.

As long as the guy was here, Laurens would have to make it up to him. Drinking buddies, especially drinking buddies who managed to enter their trio, were buddies for life.

*

Alexander Hamilton woke up to the smell of bacon and to an unfamiliar ceiling the colour of gold. He carefully stepped over a pile of relatively clean clothing and nearly tripped over Lafayette, whose lanky legs were stretched out from the coffee table. He looked over to the coat rack, which thankfully still held his coat. It would be very unfortunate for the mugger if Alex were mugged again.  

The apartment would be more aptly named as a bachelor pad. It was stylish, from the couch and two armchairs to the careful embroidery of the curtains. The intensity of the light that was filtering through would make him guess at around 8 a.m., which meant that he had-

Shit. He had missed his grocery store shift. In all honesty, it didn’t really matter at the moment. He’d taken enough shifts for him to take an entire month off. The more surprising revelation was that there weren’t any clocks here.

Weird. He walked towards the source of the smell, already exhausting most options. He did, however pause to snigger at Mulligan’s socks. They were coffee coloured with cat paw-prints all over them. Hamilton did not consider Mulligan to be a cat person, even after all the ridiculous stunts that he regularly pulled as Hamilton's roommate that invaded both of their collective privacy.

It probably would’ve been best to avoid the kitchen. There was a chance that a maid was in there, cooking and humming The Battle Hymn of the Republic. A chance that Laurens moved into the bedroom to continue sleeping. A chance that he didn’t have to see Laurens making some waffles (he heard a heavy metal clang and a hushed swear) and a wide smile and wish to everything he believed in that they were living together.

He was at the kitchen entrance.

And there was Laurens, smiling and near breaking out in song. There was even a tiny pan (why does he even have that, it’s too cute) that he shook back and forth, even chancing a small flip. He was wearing a rumpled grey T-shirt and sweatpants and the apron that Mulligan had left in the car. It was adorable and so incredibly, undeniably domestic that he couldn’t even walk back out and pretend-

Laurens turned and smiled wider.

“Hey dude!” He turned off the heat and ran a hand through his curly hair to his neck.

“I wanted to, you know.” A gentle laugh. “Apologize. For stealing your wallet. It wasn’t cool.”

 Hamilton stared. Laurens was beginning to turn a very interesting, full bodied shade of pink.

“You want to punch me, I know. But before you do, I just want to say that it was a pleasure meeting and drinking with you.” A steady southern accent flowed into his words. “And I would be honoured to know your name.”

Hamilton paused. And against his better judgement that he was going too far, he said:

“Alexander Hamilton.”

Laurens stepped forward and took Hamilton’s hand and raised it to his lips-

A sudden beeping startled the both of them. Hamilton (regrettably) took back his hand on impulse. He saw a flicker of hurt run through Laurens’ face (and felt a flicker of hope in his) as he stepped back and took out the waffles from their iron.

“Well.” Laurens coughed. “I hope you enjoy breakfast. Go wake up the other lazybones, will you?”

Hamilton swallowed.

“Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being late expect an update in around 2-3 hours  
> I think I'm gonna update at 10:30 EST because its more convenient for me to have a set schedule I guess? yeah anyways hope you enjoyed <3


	6. Waffels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> continued to postpone the talk! but! It will come into the chapter later  
> I did promise an update though so this is what I have  
> enjoy <3  
> friendship is in the air and it is. beautiful  
> Just realized I spelt Waffles wrong in the title but it's still pretty funny  
> And. Here is the updated chapter

“Hey. Wake up man.” Hamilton said, poking Lafayette’s face. He didn’t want to face Hercules, not now. The fact that his roommate (no, friend. After four years, probably best friend. His only friend.) had lied to him was not something he could handle, not after this inexplicable pull that he felt for Laurens. At the very least, he could converse with Lafayette in private.

Lafayette wasn’t responding.

“Mon amour, il y a un petit déjeuner aujourd’hui.” He said in a falsetto.

Lafayette got up immediately. He looked almost disappointed when he noticed Hamilton.

“Pouvez-vous parlez français?” He asked, amazed. “Monsieur, vous êtes mon nouveau ami.”

Hamilton smiled. It was tough to deal with the fact that nearly no one he knew (it was a small number) in the city spoke fluent French, and at least he had something in common with one people here. A sense of warmth that wasn’t present when he woke up filled him.

“Mais, vous n’avez pas acheté dîner pour moi.”

“Vous êtes l’ami de Mulligan, absolument.” Lafayette replied, getting off the coffee table. He stretched, and sighed. He didn’t notice Hamilton go white.

“Mon dieu. You guys let me sleep on the coffee table?” He grumbled. “There seems to be plenty of space on the couch for me.”

Hamilton coughed.

“Actually, I put Laurens on the couch. You probably don’t remember saying that the coffee table was ‘mon lit’.” He said.

“You know that this is his apartment, yes? His bedroom is at the end of the hallway.” Lafayette ignored the fact that he was very much still on the coffee table. It gave a warning squeak as he stood up.

“Couldn’t intrude into his room.” Hamilton mumbled.

Lafayette turned around quickly. His eyes twinkled.

“Is this the casa nova Hamilton Mulligan told me about? Or are you this nice with everyone?” Lafayette smiled, ribbing Hamilton.

“Yeah.” Hamilton said, flushing. “I’m really that nice.” He silently cussed out Mulligan about talking behind his back (that amount of times he got walked in on was at least respectable (5)). It was a bit more than frustrating that Mulligan felt the need to keep his (apparently) very close friend group and secrets to himself. Mulligan is (was) his only friend, which meant that he was on the receiving end of more than a few rants about nearly anything.

Secrets were something that they shared. But now, it was tearing them apart. Hilariously ironic.

Lafayette raised an eyebrow.

“Are you alright, Monsieur Hamilton? You are being very quiet.”  He said.

“I’m… alright.” Hamilton paused, thinking. “I just need to write something down.”

He patted his shirt for a pen, and then remembered that he left them at the apartment. Damn. Maybe he should go ask Laurens for one.

“I think John has some writing utensils. You should go ask him.” Said Lafayette.

Hamilton looked at him gratefully.

“Thanks.”

As he navigated through the laundry, he heard faint strains of Johnny Comes Marching Home coming from the kitchen.

Laurens looked like a kid with his hand caught in a cookie jar.

“I thought that. Maybe you deserved a little more for your troubles?” He said weakly.

Hamilton looked around. The kitchen was full of maybe twenty plates containing a variety of cornbread, something that looked like hash browns, and omelettes.

He blinked.

Laurens started waving his hands around as if to divert his attention from the amount of food.

“It’s ok if you don’t like it!” He groaned, burying his head into his hands. “I should’ve asked if you were allergic to anything… or if you were a vegetarian. I think I have most of the bases covered though-“

Hamilton walked forward quickly and grabbed both of Laurens’ wrists. He tried very hard not to think about its implications (in another situation, in another time).

He inexplicably found his voice to be very, very calm.

“It’s fine. More than fine.” He smiled, trying to get Laurens to stop blushing before he did something that he would definitely regret.

Luckily (unluckily, very unluckily) Laurens took a few quick breaths, and then smiled back. Hamilton could feel Laurens’ hands stop shaking (and how thin his wrists were, which definitely gave him something to regret for later) then let go, taking a few steps back.

Laurens did two finger guns (it was probably the cutest thing Hamilton has ever seen and now this was just _unfair_ ) and looked at him with smiling eyes.

“That’s good to hear! It was wrong for me to believe that you would be unnecessarily difficult.” There was that accent again.

“I do declare.” Mulligan announced in a faux-South accent as he barged into the kitchen. “Haven’t heard that accent in a while.”

He nodded at Hamilton in acknowledgement. Hamilton did not nod back.

“You don’t make breakfast for us when we go drinking.” Mulligan whined. He looked around the kitchen.

“Is Hamilton your new best friend now? Are Lafayette and I merely your acquaintances?” He struck a remorseful, crestfallen expression, raising his hand to his forehead. “How did you find it in your heart to leave us behind to the mercy of the cold, unforgiving landscape of baconlessness?”

“Come on Mulligan, you know that you’ve always been my favourite.” Laurens shooed him out. He shook his head at Hamilton when Mulligan wasn’t looking.

“I saw that!” Mulligan waved as he went back to the living room.

“At any rate, I insist that you go sit down. After all, I’m the reason you’re actually here in the first place.” Laurens starting shooing Hamilton back as well. Unlike Mulligan, he went unwillingly.

“Are you sure? I could help you bring out the food.” He said. He did not mention that he wanted to see more of Laurens in an apron (admittedly, just Laurens. Without an apron. Or clothes.).

Laurens paused, and then grinned. “What a gentleman! Unlike,” he gestured in the general direction of the living room, “those two. Maybe we should be best friends.”

Hamilton couldn’t have felt more disappointment and hope in his life even if he tried.

“Yeah.” He grinned back. “We should.”

Rhythmic banging started from the living room. Hamilton startled. Laurens just sighed.

“That’s our cue.” Laurens said. “I really should not accept help from a guest. But from a friend?” He waved Hamilton over as if to share a secret. “Definitely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alexander Hamilton is petty which is also relatable


	7. The talkening- Part one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The talk that was promised 5 chapters ago finally happens. Also! Worldbuilding happens  
> Don't forget to reread chapter 6 because I added some things (lams fluff) there.

Hamilton sat down at the dining table. Unlike everything in John’s (he can say John now, they’re friends after all even if he wanted something else) apartment, it looked like it wasn’t meant to be shown off. It had room for only three people, (which made it especially hard for him to avoid Mulligan since it was round too) which meant that they were knocking knees against each other. He and Laurens (in all honesty, he wouldn’t be able to handle saying John. After all, Laurens had never said Alexander. It was probably weird if he did say John, anyways. A social faux-pas in the South, perhaps) had managed to place all plates on the table, even if a few were barely managing to hang off the edge.

“Let’s say grace, everyone!” Laurens took Hamilton’s and Lafayette’s hands in his. Hamilton flushed, hoping that the bright light streaming from the window managed to cover him.

Mulligan scoffed. “You never say grace.” He said, piling on bacon and eggs.

Laurens grinned. “You’re completely right. Screw it. Let’s eat!” He let go of both their hands. Hamilton would swear up and down that he felt a jolt of electricity leave his body when Laurens did so.

Hamilton took a hash brown. He stared at it. It was a crisp golden colour and circular enough to be Instagram-worthy. He had never seen anything like it.

It cut with a definite _clink_. Lafayette and Mulligan were already digging in, with muffled moans and nods of agreement.

Laurens was most likely a genius, Hamilton thought. A culinary genius, left to mug innocent, beautiful strangers in the park. A sad story if he ever heard one. A starving artist, if you will.

He started grabbing some more.

“Jeez Hamilton, leave some for the rest of us.” Mulligan smiled through a mouthful of food. “Damn Laurens. Paprika? Didn’t know you loved us that much.”

Laurens smiled ruefully. “I do believe that this breakfast can be regarded as an apology of sorts.”

“That’s right.” Hamilton said. He looked straight ahead.

“I believe an apology is in order, Mulligan.”

Laurens looked at Hamilton. Then looked at Mulligan, who was starting to drop his act of pretending.

“ Right.” He looked at his plate of food and sighed.

“So?” Hamilton said.

Laurens looked at Lafayette and came to a silent agreement.

“We should go-“ He started.

“I think we should all explain.” Mulligan looked meaningfully at both of them.

“So. We’re all part of a secret society called the Sons of Liberty and we fight crime that’s ignored by the government. The usual, like corruption and fraud and tax evasion. We also gather information to give to the higher uppers. We’re not supposed to collaborate with any of them but the one for our state, George Washington is like a father to all of us. Our own little secret family.” Mulligan looked almost wistful.

“I couldn’t tell you because it was so dangerous. They have my apartment bugged on rumours and Laurens is the only one close enough to them to not have any traces of suspicion. Lafayette lives on most of the upper floor if I ever need any help.”

Mulligan looked at Hamilton hopefully.

Hamilton breathed in.

“Not good enough.” He said.

“Not good enough?”

“What did Lafayette mean when he said Burr recommended me?”

The trio winced. Albeit, for different reasons.

“He remembered you from Kingston.” Mulligan said. “You were quite the marksman back then.”

 Hamilton looked at him and remembered. Aaron Burr, the senior who he had bumped into at a pub back in the days when it was cool to hang out in pubs on campus. Hamilton was an orphan and Burr was too and they were friends until-

“He recommended me with good intent?” He asked.

“I was. Surprised as well.” Mulligan reflected for a bit. “He said, and I quote: ‘This type of job would be good fit for Alexander Hamilton. He has a steady hand and a straightforward type of thinking. A definite benefit to this group.”

“But.” Laurens said. Hamilton nearly forgot he was there. “Washington couldn’t bring an outsider without confirmation that your character was aligned with ours.”

“That’s why he accepted you into interning at his law firm.” Said Mulligan.

Hamilton got up.

“Is that.” He turned to face all of them. “The only reason?”

They all were gobsmacked.

“I was an incredible student. I had. A full scholarship. And you are telling me that the only reason I got accepted to the law firm was because I happened to shoot well?” He was very, very close to yelling.

“Of course not.” Said Mulligan hurriedly. “You wouldn’t have even been considered if it weren’t for all your work. Believe me, I tried to talk him out of it-”

Mulligan quickly shut up.

“Talk him out of it? Are you kidding?!”

Mulligan stared at him. “Alexander.” Hamilton paused. Mulligan never called him by his first name. “Believe me, this job is not something to be worthy of bragging about. It’s terrifying and it keeps you up at night and-“

“What right do you have to make MY decisions?” roared Hamilton. “By what degree of influence do you have over my life that you felt the need to ‘protect me’ from the dangers of whatever the hell you guys do? Do you know.” He bit back a sob. “Do you know how AWFUL it feels to learn that you’ve been lying to me this whole time? This whole time, you’ve never even ONCE mentioned that you had secrets. We’re friends!”

He wiped his eyes furiously.

“We’re friends.”

“I’m sorry.” Mulligan said softly.

Hamilton looked up. “That’s not good enough.” He said, and walked towards the coat rack. He grabbed his coat and continued walking out the door. He didn’t stop walking until he reached the apartment and numbly grabbed his laptop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to clarify this later but. Just take it I love you all <3  
> its like 12 h e l p


	8. egads!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The scenario gets worse and worse.

Hamilton was still furiously typing when Mulligan came through the front door, trudging in snow and slush.

"Look, Hamilton. I'm sorry! But you've got to understand this job - this thing we're doing, it's not something to be taken lightly." Mulligan sighed, bending down to take off his boots.

Hamilton kept on typing.

"I know you can hear me! Come on, dude!"

Hamilton slammed down the screen of his laptop.  

"You've got to be kidding me." He stood up to his full height and looked straight into Mulligan's eyes. "You can't fathom the fact that for once, just once, you aren’t the one who knows everything about me?”

“This job, whatever that you guys think you’re doing for the good of the state, I can understand. Do you have any idea _why_ I decided to became a lawyer?” Hamilton breathed in. “It’s not for the prestige, or even for my goddamn legacy. It’s for every time I’ve seen someone get stepped on by someone else bigger. It’s for every time I’ve had to fight against oppressors just to get here.”

He paused.

“You know this. I’ve told you before.”

Mulligan simply stood there as Hamilton shoved his laptop into his bag.

“I have to leave,” Hamilton said.

“Hamilton,” Mulligan stopped. His whole posture slumped, as if he had suddenly gained the entire weight of the world onto his shoulders.

Hamilton hadn’t seen him this upset in the entire three years they’d spent rooming together. “They’re going to come after you. You have to understand! Just come join us and you’ll be safe!”

Hamilton looked at him. “Safe from whom?”

Mulligan paused. “I can’t… tell you. It’s…”

He hid his face in his hand, trying to hide the crease in his brow.

“Classified.”

Hamilton picked up his bag. “I thought so.”

“I’m just telling you... as a friend, the best course of action for you right now is to stay here.”

Mulligan’s neutral tone cut through Hamilton’s entire being like a knife. He could feel his hands start to shake.

He quickly put his hand in the pockets of his coat that he didn’t take off despite the and gripped his bag as if to crush the strap.

“Then I suppose we have nothing to talk about.”  Hamilton said, pushing past Mulligan.

He had a lot of work to do.

*

The bus ride was bitter and uneventful. People pushed around him, cold in their attitudes despite being bundled up in winter coats and hats.

He got off the bus. _I can’t believe that Mulligan would think that I, of ALL the people he knew, would be worried that I would get hurt! That I would back down from something to better our nation, that he needed to keep ME safe!_

Hamilton made his way to the library in the quiet snowfall, where he knew he wouldn’t be found. Not like Mulligan would even try and find him.

 _Bastard,_ he thought. _He’s probably drinking it up, thinking about how ‘poor, defenseless, Hamilton’ is out here all alone, with no opportunity to call for help-_

He felt a chill run down his spine. He was being watched. He looked over the low book shelves and saw out of the corner of his eye a few men staring at him. Which was odd, since he was in the children’s section, where he got most of his work done because the WiFi was strongest there. Usually he would take this as his cue to leave for the men’s ‘darling daughters’ to upend all the shelves (at least Hamilton put them back) but these people were too… astringent to be fathers.

He quickly got up and went to the front desk, where he deposited his laptop to the librarian. There wasn’t any need to protect his documents, which were backed by multiple clouds, but his crappy laptop was an entire week’s worth of salary.

He looked back over the shelves. The men were closer now. Hamilton couldn’t breathe.

“I can SEE you bastards!” He exploded.

A few parents nearby nearly exploded in tandem at him, but thought better and covered their children’s ears. Their accusing stares cut at the back of his head like glass.

The men seemed unfazed, but maybe he was just being paranoid. After all the talk with Mulligan about ‘classification’ and being ‘undercover’ and ‘in danger,’ and he still managed to make himself look like a foolish... fool in public.

Whispers began gathering in the library and men gathering around him. They were uniformly wearing clean cut suits and sunglasses, even though it was winter outside and no one was noticing that they were even _there_.

He ran.

He ran out of the library into the freezing snow, onto the road where he waved frantically for a taxi and-

“Mr. Hamilton,” an almost bored voice said.

Hamilton turned around. He couldn’t be afraid, not now. The face he was seeing was indistinct. He noticed their sunglasses weren’t even foggy from the weather.

“We have a few questions to ask you. Follow us,” the voice said, gesturing to a black unmarked van that Hamilton was sure wasn’t there a few seconds ago.

He fought, punching and kicking. He didn’t know how many people were there, but there was one thing he did know: he wasn’t going down without a fight.

The gaping maw of the van drew nearer and nearer until-

No one noticed what had happened. If they bothered to look, they would see only the peaceful snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI! Thanks to everyone for commenting you literally give me life to continue  
> Also as you may have noticed, this chapter is 100x better than the ones before it. What gives, you may wonder?  
> Well I have a fic partner! She's not on ao3 (it would be blessed if she was) but her tumblrs http://petermaxlmoff.tumblr.com/ and she is AMAZING!!! literally the coolest person i know - go follow her! tell her she #sux :') <3! Her english mark is 20x better than mine :') so ... yeah shes basically the best <3  
> The only angst we have in this fic is going to be friendship angst... stay tuned folks  
> Also about last chapter with Hamilton not knowing about George Washington... he doesn't have a good memory for probabilities I guess *dabs*.  
> Sorry this chapter is so late i had to reboot my computer but I appreciate each and every one of your comments and will probably print them and put them on my wall<3  
> Again, I 'm really sorry about the delay... I'll not reboot my computer next time ;)


	9. oh noo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm . just take it

Hamilton groaned. He attempted to stretch only to be halted at the wrists by a metallic  _ clink _ . He tried getting up from the hard, uncomfortable chair and found that his legs were bound too. His mind was roaring in a panicked frenzy before he gained control of himself. Arguing with Hercules, the trip to the library, escaping from the men in suits came back to him in a rush.He opened his eyes slowly, unable to clear the blurriness in his eyes. There were bright white orbs in a line above him.

He blinked.

The orbs were now stars in a mockery of a constellation.

He blinked again.

His sight finally cleared, and he saw that he was in a room with of a dark wood table in front of him, a fold-up lawn chair, and a pale grey desk lamp. The room was clean, almost clinical. There were no posters, no rugs, no evidence that a person had lived there. It almost was as if he were in a prison.

He couldn’t see a door or a way out no matter how hard he strained his eyes. He squirmed in his chair, attempting to move the chair by shifting his weight, but stopped when he heard the creak of a rusty hinges to his left.

“Attempting to escape, are you?” 

Hamilton nearly broke his neck whipping around to face the amused voice. He knew that voice. He’s heard it countless times online in mockeries of news articles and ass-kissing appraisals.

He could feel every muscle in his body tense up. Though, that didn’t stop him from shivering. It didn’t stop him from thinking of all the terrible things that could happen to him. 

It only reminded him that Mulligan was right. There was an opportunity: a war for him to rise above right under his nose, and his pride was the only thing that didn’t allow him to take it. A spat between friends because of secrets shared and unshared, and his silly, silly pride that held him here, to this goddamn chair.

What was the point of pride when he was dead? What was the point of anything that he did? He had everything to lose and now, in this moment, it was all on the brink of being blotted out.

“Not trying to escape?” 

The voice was comical. The face belonged to one of the most corrupt politicians in history: George W. Frederick of the King Corporation, who had kept his employees in sickening working conditions and who had accepted numerous under-the-table dealings to increase taxes for filling their overburdened pockets. Everyone knew, but nobody did anything about it. As a major runner for the senate of the New York State, his personal and business affairs were a matter of public debate, but he himself was practically untouchable.

“Dear, sweet Hamilton.” He crooned. 

George was flanked by two taller, broader men in black suits. He walked past Hamilton, past the gritty wood table. They stood beside him as he took a seat in the chair opposite Hamilton. 

“You’ve caused quite a lot of trouble for yourself, haven’t you?” His smile was sickly sweet, like poisoned honey. George steepled his fingers in front of him and leaned forward, as if he were berating a young child. 

“We’ve been keeping a close eye on you.” George peered over his fingers like he was about to dissect a particularly interesting specimen. Hamilton could feel every brush of fabric with his skin with every breath. It was disgusting. George smiled as if he noticed Hamilton’s discomfort, and continued. 

“I must say, your pseudonyms are the cutest little things. And your essays about me, oh goodness.”

Hamilton took a deep breath. He was always careful to cover his tracks, to have as many pseudonyms as possible, to have his source bounced around multiple secure countries. What a laugh it all was. 

“And your antics with Mulligan! What an adorable couple you make. Or maybe-”

“We’re not a couple.” Hamilton felt himself spit out.

The words burned on the way out, inflamingc his insides with newfound strength. George wouldn’t kill him, he knew. If he did, Hamilton would become a martyr for the cause, a reason to fight. George’s way of dealing with things was to let them fester and rot until the opposing side crawled back to him, begging for forgiveness. 

Hamilton had no plans to crawl.

“They’re going to save me. I’m too valuable of a resource to lose.” 

Hamilton glared, staring George straight in the eye. 

“Oh. God.” George feigned a faint. It reminded Hamilton of Mulligan painfully, like a itch in the back of his mind he wouldn’t be able to scratch unless he cracked his brain open. 

“Don’t make them stop on my account.” George grinned. 

“Actually,” George motioned to the bodyguard on his left. The bodyguard nodded curtly, then left out the door. It creaked once, twice. George continued smiling. Hamilton shifted awkwardly in his seat, paranoia on a record-time high. What if it was the sweet lady in the library who he said hi to every morning? Evidence that would send him to a cinder-block prison for the rest of his life, that would make all confirmation that he existed disappear? 

Finally, the door creaked, followed by two sets of footprints.

“There’s someone here to see you.” George sang. 

A heavy-set figure passed him. They looked at each other at the same time.

It was Mulligan. Hamilton’s mind roared again. 

He was going to die, he knew. This was some sick practical joke that they all collectively pulled on people who stood up to them. That’s why everyone would sit down, keep their heads down and stay quiet.

A flash of recognition appeared on Mulligan’s face. Hamilton could feel a tiny flame of hope flare inside of him. It couldn’t be a joke. Their friendship, everything they shared, couldn’t have been just for money. 

George waved at Mulligan. “Hey! Hercules!” He held his hand up for a high five. 

It was like George was greeting an old friend. Hamilton felt like he was punched in the stomach. 

Mulligan pushed past him.

George pouted.

“You know, you’ve always asked for a way to prove your loyalty to us.” George motioned to Hamilton. “Go on.” 

Hamilton’s heart rose to his throat.

Mulligan turned to face Hamilton again. Only, it wasn’t Mulligan. The Mulligan he knew was warm. He was someone who would spend hours prepping for one joke. He would smile constantly and make shitty cookies that Hamilton would eat and pretend were good. 

This stranger in front of him, who looked exactly like Mulligan, was none of those things. Hamilton couldn’t even recognize him.

This realization hurt a lot more than the punches. 

 

After what felt like weeks, months, years, King George called Mulligan back. Hamilton didn’t know exactly how long he’d been there. Time seemed to blur together in time to the buzzing in his head.

"Come on, we still need him alive.” George got up from his chair and walked towards Hamilton. He chuckled.

“I must say, you’ve done an admirable job.” George paused, then looked at Mulligan directly. “For a moment there, I thought you were going to runout!”

“I’ve listened to some of those recordings from your apartment. If I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought you were some kind of traitor, warning him and all that!” He continued.

“But now we know. What a clever little tailor you are, pretending you were still on their side! Your promotion will definitely be worth a little roommate, yes?” He gestured to his body guards. They exit single file: first George, then his bodyguards, then Mulligan. Hamilton could barely make out the figure of Mulligan at this point.

The door creaked one final time before Hamilton blacked out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a) im sorry this is late I probably have to push back the update times honestly I . I have no excuse :(  
> b) Thank you to everyone who loved this! There's not gonna be a lot of violence after this chapter (I mean its secret agents but like. it'll be cleaner I guess)  
> c) ugh school is tommorow godbless @everyone  
> Check out my editor's blog @http://petermaxlmoff.tumblr.com/ <3 thanks to everyone for reading


	10. .

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow that last chapter was a doozy huh

Ok so everyone's like where's the new chapter right.

What if I just. 

Lie down for a bit writing alot is very tiring i am sorry friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a test on Friday so I'm going to go on a hiatus for 4 days I guess? Don't die without me guys :')  
> Thanks for reading <3 <3


	11. Well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drama

The day was smiling. The blue sky stretched over the muddy, run-down buildings. The last remnants of snow glowed in the light like dying stars.

Hercules Mulligan was shivering. It wasn’t cold; he had his jacket on. He clenched and unclenched his fists, unable to see on the crowd in front of him. They parted in front of him automatically, leaving behind a trail of vaguely intimidated people.

He wouldn’t focus. He  _ couldn’t _ focus. 

His face was unnaturally grave. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to be followed - George was fallible in that way. He’d been so certain that what Mulligan had done was out of loyalty.

The apartment was empty. Mulligan sighed, and took off his coat. He rifled through the pockets and ran his fingers over the lining, tracing out 6 bumps with his fingertips. If Mulligan was going to bug someone, he would’ve been a lot more careful. He wouldn’t have put 3 in the pocket lining for one.

He walked over to his desk, coat in hand. The desk was pushed as close it could be against a wall and had a crappy laptop and a red lamp on top of it. It was a generic wood desk with a layer of plastic paint characteristic of IKEA. It had taken Hamilton and him two whole days to make it. 

He opened up the laptop to one of his favourite pieces.   Ritt der Walküren . A thirty-second ad blasted first.

He bent down and opened the cabinet door, removing a royal blue cookie tin. It clinked as he placed it on the desk next to the laptop.

He removed the lid.

He watched the screen intently, making sure to keep his eyes on the monitor. 

_ Snip.  _

_ Snip _ . 

The bugs were archaic. They were as large as a dime and serrated on the bottom. He placed five of them gently into another jacket. 

He put back the scissors and started sewing the jacket back up. When he first started removing bugs, he had pricked his fingers at least twenty times and it had taken almost an hour. Now, he could do it under five minutes.

Mulligan pushed the chair back with a rough squeak. He had places to be. But first-

His mind was racing but there was no time to calm down. The journey to the door was done in snapshots. Closing the laptop. Putting on his coat. Locking the door.

And leaving behind the empty, empty apartment.

*

Mulligan paced himself as he climbed up the stairs. A creak nearly made him jump, as if he’d never climbed these stairs a hundred times before.

The specific stairwell didn’t have any active cameras since it was, as the sign said, ‘out of order’. At any rate, no one bothered to check the cameras since everyone took the elevator.  

He reached the landing, making sure that he would not be seen. The steps in the plan he had were specific and he was in no mood to ad lib some extra lines. Pushing open the door to the hallway, he patted down his pockets, feeling each and every item that he needed.

He arrived at Lafayette’s door. It was nondescript and beige like every other door in the building. The thought process behind it was that if you needed to hide a tree, hide it in the forest. The doors were actually made from multiple trees, increasing the amount of trees in said forest of doors.

If he hadn’t explained it to Lafayette, he would’ve placed the French and American flag on his door. One flag was the norm, but two was overkill in this building. And the fact that half of the apartments on this floor were vacant, courtesy of Lafayette himself.

He knocked. One-two, one-two-three-four.

Lafayette opened the door and glanced at Mulligan. He opened his mouth to speak when Mulligan  began to wave his hands around wildly to capture his attention . His hand dived into his coat pocket. The following actions were of utmost importance and had to be done with precision.

He pulled out a balled up napkin.

He handed it to Lafayette, whose face could only be described as ‘incalculably disgusted.’ Mulligan thanked Lafayette mentally for being too genteel to say anything.

Lafayette gingerly unfolded it with his fingertips and read it. His eyes got bigger with each word he read. Lafayette nodded slightly.

Lafayette hurried back into the apartment and brought out an old silvery tape player. 

“I hope I’m not imposing!” Mulligan called into the bug. 

Lafayette pressed play and put the player onto the shelf. 

“Of course not, dearest.” A lady’s voice trilled. 

The recording played on.The recording and plan were going along perfectly at this point. However, Mulligan couldn’t help from worrying about what could go wrong. Like if the speaker was found, for example. Or if George suddenly had a change of heart. It was ‘chronic mother worrying’, Hamilton would joke. 

Mulligan placed the bug next to the tape walked out of the apartment with Lafayette. He grabbed the door handle, closing the door with a quiet click in tandem with the tape’s. 

“What happened to your hand?” Lafayette said quietly, grabbing Mulligan’s bloody knuckles. He ran his thumb carefully over Mulligan’s fingers, holding his hand as if it was glass.

At that moment Mulligan desperately wished he could speak French, if only for five minutes. Lafayette had met them more than halfway to connect with them. He could not put into words how much he wanted to reassure Lafayette properly, to pretend that it was going to be alright. 

But they didn’t have time for it.

Mulligan pulled back. He quickly thrust his hand back into his coat pockets.

“I’ll tell you later,” he said. It took all his strength to keep his voice steady.

“We have a lot of work ahead of us.”

Lafayette looked at him strangely and sighed. “Come on, then. Let’s go.” 

*

They arrived at Laurens’ door without any trouble. Mulligan took one final sweep over the elaborately tacky hallway and knocked. 

The white door opened. Laurens frowned when he saw Lafayette and Mulligan. 

“What’s going on? You guys never visit me during the day,” he said.

Mulligan took a deep breath.  _ Better to have it over with. _

“Hamilton’s been captured. And I need help.”

Laurens paused and let them in. Mulligan paused to take off his shoes while Lafayette walked right past him. 

Laurens’ apartment was the same as they left it. Laurens let them sit down on the couch before he started pacing back and forth, narrowly avoiding the laundry pile.

“What do you mean Hamilton’s been captured?!” Laurens yelled. 

Mulligan and Lafayette winced. Laurens always yelled but the desperate note in his voice made him feel the gravity of the situation. It was sucking all of them into bleak despair like a black hole. They needed a plan and time to make one. And they didn’t have time.

They all knew that George moved quickly. They always needed to be three steps ahead of the game. When they fell behind, they lost. If George made a mistake, they needed to be there to capitalize on it. But that hadn’t happened yet.

In all aspects, the game was rigged in George’s favour. 

Laurens paced around frantically, running his hands through his hair that became exponentially messier each time he did so. Lafayette was still beside Mulligan on the couch and his eyes were downcast, as if he knew they already lost. The atmosphere was crushing.

Mulligan had introduced Lafayette and Laurens to Hamilton for a day, and now as a collective  it felt like they just lost their best friend.

“I don’t believe it either,” Lafayette said.

He turned to Mulligan. “Are you sure that your sources are reliable?” 

Lafayette’s tone was pleading, as if Mulligan would lie to him. 

“I wish it wasn’t true, ” Mulligan sighed. “We just have to hope he isn’t hurt.”

Despite being an undercover spy, he hated lying. It didn’t sit well with him since it left behind a mess he couldn’t even begin to clean up.

“We have to save him,” Laurens said finally. “We don’t leave a man behind.”

Mulligan looked at him and smiled. Mulligan could only hope that was true when he got captured. It was only a matter of time.

“That’s the plan.”

*

Hamilton was getting restless. The room was dark and suffocating but after a while, feeling scared started to become boring. He couldn’t move and he couldn’t  _ do _ anything. The rope around his arms itched like a motherfucker but he could barely feel the rope around his ankles now. Possibly due to the lack of blood flow. Which was a concern.  

His face didn’t hurt anymore. At first it hurt like a bitch, but now it was just sore. Soreness was nothing compared to the physical pain in his entire body after pulling five all nighters. 

He refused to think of Mulligan. Or anyone else, for that matter. It was a fact that he was going to be alone and he had to pull his own weight. He went to the United States alone. And now, he was going to die alone. 

The door creaked open again, casting a bright white shaft of light into the room.

“Hey Hamilton! Or can I call you Alexander?” George said as he strolled into the room.

Hamilton looked stonily ahead, refusing to acknowledge the other person in the room. If he were to die, he would need to die with dignity. 

George sat in front of him, this time without any bodyguards. 

“You know, this could all be over if you just joined us,” George said. His eyes glinted in the light.

There was dead silence.

“Not saying anything?” He smiled. “Fine with me. But just so you know, I’m willing to talk when you are.” 

“Poor Alexander, without friends or family,” he continued. “No one to miss you. From what I’ve heard, that is one of the worse fates you could suffer.” 

“But with us! You would have a place in my army. The winning side! You’re so much better than the rabble out there. It doesn’t even matter that you’re a castaway bastard.” George grinned at Hamilton, unaware that he had made the biggest mistake he could have had. 

Hamilton grunted. His throat was dry and breathless.

“Sorry, what was that?” George leaned in across the table. 

Hamilton gulped.

“Fuck you. Fuck your stupid cause and fuck everything you stand for.” Hamilton spat out. 

George slapped him. 

Hamilton’s face burned. 

“I’ll talk to you when you’re in the right state of mind. After, say, a day or so?” George called as he left the room.

It was dark again. Hamilton tapped his foot to an unheard rhythm. Each time, the rope got a little bit looser. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so. Life is hard and writing everyday is #bad so. 3x long chapters every Wednesday and Sunday. Maybe some shorter chapters for scenes + suspense in between though .


	12. Defiance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Herro

They were still at Laurens’ apartment.

Mulligan automatically straightened up when his burner phone rang. Super Bass echoed throughout the room.

In the kitchen, Laurens was struggling not to laugh while Lafayette was wheezing.

He waited for three rings, glaring at both of them from the living room. Mulligan had put a lot of thought into each song for each contact. The rhythm and lyrics fully encapsulated the person.

He picked up.

“Hello, Your Excellency,” he said.

Lafayette’s eyes were near bugging out now and Laurens stuffed his fist in his mouth so stay silent. Mulligan shooed them away silently.

The voice on the other end was smooth and deep.

“Hello, son. What did I tell you about calling me that? We’re equals.” The smile could be heard in George Washington’s voice.

Mulligan shrugged, fully aware that Washington couldn’t see it.

“Very well,” he paused.

“Sir.”

Washington didn’t say anything. Laurens, sensing a sick burn, called out a quiet ‘dammmmmnnn’ in the background. Lafayette quickly shushed him, ever the daddy’s boy.

“We need to call in the heavy artillery,” he continued. “Our friend has been captured. We have to call the Boston district.”

There was silence on the other end. Mulligan could feel the slow deliberation happening. It was a risk to his standing with Washington, sure. But for Hamilton? For his friend? It was nothing.

Lafayette poked his head out from the doorway, concern clear as day on his face.

“Mulligan? Are you alright?” asked Lafayette.

Mulligan glanced down to his other hand. It was shaking from the sheer force. His knuckles were pale white and red.

He breathed in and nodded.

“Washington? Are you there, sir?” Mulligan asked.

“Hamilton is not…” Washington took a sharp intake of breath. “A vital part of our plans. And to encourage an act of vandalism in a whole other city… we cannot believe that it will work.”

Mulligan’s tone became pleading.

“Please, sir. He’s our friend.”

“We are not a petty organization prompted only by provocation from the other side.” Washington stated flatly. His tone did not invite any room for discussion.

“Sir, do we not fight for the freedom of the people? We literally have an innocent civilian captured by the other side! This is our chance to catch them in the act.”

“No,” Washington said. “Mulligan, you cannot incite a political event by your own whims! You must take time to think about this. You’re clearly too emotionally attached to the situation.”

“Or perhaps you are too emotionally detached from the situation, sir,” Mulligan said.

He strode to the kitchen, pushing past Laurens and Lafayette who paused their conversation to glance at Mulligan. He tossed the phone into the microwave, furiously punching in numbers to start. The crackle of metal shook them to action.

“What did Washington say?” They prompted at the same time.

“We’re going through with it, with or without Washington,” Mulligan replied icily. He felt something wet slide down his hand and saw that he had begun bleeding from his knuckles.

He went to the bathroom and turned on the sink. Lafayette and Laurens were looking at him curiously as he closed the door behind him.

He grabbed another phone from an inner left pocket and dialed the only contact number. Contrary to Washington’s beliefs, he could incite something by whim. He just needed the right leverage.

Mulligan let the phone ring once, twice.

It was picked up with silence on the other end.

“We cannot stand by any longer, Sam,” he said.

“Are you sure? Neither of our groups have been provoked just yet,” Samuel replied.

“I’m sure. One of our own has been captured,” he said, gritting his teeth.

“Oh. Damn. We’ve got your back,” Samuel paused.

“Just think about the consequences, alright? If we implement the plan today, there’s a 65% chance that King George comes over, but he will certainly try and weed out our group. Then he’ll come after you. If you successfully extract the guy, there will be suspicion on you betraying them.” he continued.

“Don’t worry about me. Watch your backs,” Mulligan said.

“Washington won’t watch ours, I know,” Samuel interrupted.

“Promise me you won’t mess up. We only have one shot at this,” he said.

“Believe me, we won’t,” Mulligan replied, then hung up.

He twisted the cold metal faucet roughly to the right, turning off the water and then opened the door to reveal Laurens and Lafayette, still in the kitchen.

They trusted Mulligan so much that they wouldn’t even stoop to eavesdropping on him. Here he was lying to them by omission, which is still lying and perhaps were leading them into what could be a death sentence. If they knew, they would still come.

Brave fools. But bravery is bravery, and Mulligan wouldn’t trade it for anything. If (When) he died, they would learn the truth. That was the least Washington could do for him, after all that Mulligan had done for the cause. Mulligan didn’t mind dying, but he would miss his friends. They were all he had.

That was why he needed Hamilton back, and why they were going to rush George without Washington. They stood a chance (a slim, slim chance).

*

Hamilton was still awake. Time in the room felt like it moved as slow as molasses, drowning him in a slow, sticky, sickly sweet death.

The rope was burning his skin every time it moved downwards.

There was no time, but he had all the time in the world. He could stay in the room, join forces with George. The mere thought of which nearly made him retch. He would die in obscurity, without even fighting for his cause. A cause that Mulligan felt the need to protect (of all things, protect!) him from.

The rope was nearly past his ankles.

That person was Mulligan, he knew. The betrayal cut deep, but what else could he do but keep going forward? A bitter end to their friendship. He couldn’t breathe. A lump formed in his throat. The end to every person he knew. Even Laurens. That didn’t even matter. Everything that happened didn’t matter.

He just had to keep moving forward.

The rope was off. He got up and couldn’t feel his legs. His hands were still handcuffed behind his back, every clink of the chain reminding him he wasn’t off the hook yet. He opened the door to a brightly lit hallway. The walls were a bright, artificial white and the tiles were spotless.

He was alone.

He took a step out, heel, then toe. He could hear his heart nearly beating out of his chest. The bright red exit sign at the end got closer and closer.

The door creaked open. The stairwell almost reminded him of home (not home, not Mulligan). It was dark, damp, and sweaty but had a sense of familiarity like nothing he’d ever felt. He could taste metal in his mouth, and his hands were shaking from the sheer effort of walking.

There was someone coming up the stairs. Their shadow was in stark contrast to the graying yellow light illuminating the stairs.

They got closer. Hamilton’s heart leapt to his throat.

Hamilton gulped. Sweat dripped down his brow. The figure was right in front of him.

“Mulligan?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't have my lovely editor because she had tests! So this chapter is a lot lower in quality but honestly... at least its on time :') see you guys Saturday!


	13. Wooo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No spoiler ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I imagine death so much it feels more like a memory

Hamilton strode towards Mulligan. Each step was excruciating. 

His whole body was shaking. His legs were going to give out from under him. 

He grabbed the black lapels of Mulligan’s stupid trench coat and raised his fist. Mulligan’s face looked resigned, impassive in the sticky bright white lighting. Hamilton’s grip tightened, wrinkling the fabric. 

He lowered his hand. 

“Why are you here?” he ground out. He couldn’t believe it. Perhaps he was still in the dark, little room and finally lost it, drowned in the dregs of the little time he had left. 

“You’re my friend. Do what you must,” the apparition of Mulligan said flatly, his voice echoing throughout the empty stairwell. He looked like crap. Bloodshot eyes and dark circles. 

Hamilton wanted to hit him. He wanted to punch him and cry and ask why, what happened, what was real. He swallowed the lump rising in his throat.

His only friend had betrayed him.

He didn’t want to believe it. If this was a dream, he might as well humour himself. 

“Why. Are. You. Here?” Hamilton glared at Mulligan. His knuckles were turning white on the black background of Mulligan’s coat.

“I’m a spy,” said Mulligan. Hamilton scoffed.

“Of course you fucking are. The Sons of Freedom or whatever it’s fucking called. I’m not stupid.” 

Mulligan didn’t even look hurt by Hamilton’s venom. 

Just... tired. 

After a few beats, Mulligan looked at him straight on.  

“I’ve never told anyone else this.” Mulligan took a deep breath.

“I’m a double agent. I work for George to track his movements and report directly to Washington. I swore an oath to keep all my actions secret.”

Hamilton blankly stared at him in disbelief.

“Why are you telling me this? Is this some desperate lie you made so I won’t punch you?” 

Hamilton was becoming near hysterical. His eyes were watering. The dream was getting too close to reality, too good to be true. This explained nearly everything.

The punching, the cold eyes. Begging him to stay put, as if Mulligan knew what was going to happen. 

Mulligan did know. And Hamilton didn’t listen.

Hamilton had no one to blame but himself for this mess.

It had all been too good to be true. 

“Feel free to tell anyone, Laurens and Lafayette, they don’t know. Hell, feel free to expose me.” Mulligan looked directly into Hamilton’s eyes. 

“I trust you, Hamilton. With my life. With this secret. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. I don’t have any excuse,” Mulligan’s tone fell again.

Hamilton let go of Mulligan’s coat.

 Hamilton took a breath. He was grounded in reality again. 

The scene fell in place.The staleness of the air around him, the weight of his coat. This wasn’t a dream. It was really happening. 

“I believe you,” he laughed, feeling his voice break. 

“You bastard, I fucking believe you,” Hamilton pulled Mulligan in for a hug. Mulligan stiffened and then relaxed.

Hamilton took a step back. Mulligan’s face was scrunched up. If it were anyone looking at him, they would guess that Mulligan was very, very angry. Hamilton knew he was struggling not to cry. 

Mulligan held Hamilton at arm’s length. 

“Jesus, you look like shit, Hamilton. I can’t tell you how sorry I am-” he began.

“You look like shit too,” Hamilton interrupted. He could feel his face breaking into a grin.

“I don’t blame you. I would’ve done the same thing,” Hamilton said.

“Really?” Mulligan sniffed sadly like a sad puppy. 

“Yeah, it wouldn’t have made a difference on your ugly mug.” He smiled again.

Mulligan smiled weakly back. 

“We should go, though. This place is giving me the creeps now,” said Hamilton.

Mulligan nodded, and together they walked down the stairway.

*

Laurens joined them after they walked down a few flights. He was hauling a dark, earthy brown briefcase through a metal door.

“I found this and a laptop!” he beamed at Mulligan. He then looked over him to Hamilton.

“Oh god. Are you ok?” he looked incredibly guilty, tugging at Hamilton’s heartstrings. If Laurens wanted, he could play Hamilton like a harp.

Hamilton snapped back to the moment.

“I’m alright, thanks.” He grinned. 

“You’re hurt!” He pushed past Mulligan, ignoring Mulligan’s whine of ‘now I’m hurt. Emotionally. In my soul.’

“It’s my fault.” He pushed Hamilton’s hair out of his eyes. He groaned softly when he saw the bruises. 

“If I didn’t rob you… If I wasn’t so god damn careless you wouldn’t be in this mess. I’m so, so sorry and it’s ok if you don’t ever forgive me-” he rushed.

“It’s fine!” Hamilton brushed Laurens’ hand away from his face. He ignored the tingling on the areas of his face where Laurens had touched him. 

“It was bound to happen. I’m going to join you guys anyways,” Hamilton mumbled. 

Laurens flashed a thousand-watt smile. Mulligan turned to him incredulously, as if to say something before grinning and throwing an arm around Hamilton’s shoulder. 

“Really?” they said at the same time.

“Jinx! You owe me a soda!” Laurens said quickly. Mulligan rolled his eyes.

“This is great! We can talk about all the cool stuff we’re doing and we can hang out all the time and wow-” Laurens continued.

“Laurens, you’re rambling again,” Mulligan said. 

Laurens blushed, red on his face prominent in the white lights. 

“Right.” He paused. 

“We have to go. This briefcase is definitely important. It was in a safe!” he lifted the case for emphasis.

“Yes!” Mulligan cheered. He caught himself and turned serious. 

“Did you clean up after?” he demanded.

“Of course!” Laurens frowned. “I’m not that careless.”

A door creaked below them. 

They fell silent. 

Quiet humming surrounded them. A shadow fell across the wall at the bottom of the stairs. 

“Did you guys find him?” asked Lafayette.

The trio breathed a collective sigh of relief. The fact that George and his henchmen could find them hit Hamilton suddenly. 

“Yeah!” said Laurens. He waved enthusiastically, attracting Lafayette’s attention to Hamilton.

Lafayette practically skipped up the stairs. He grabbed Hamilton’s face, glaring at every bruise he saw. 

“You’re hurt, but it’s nothing permanent,” said Lafayette finally. He pulled them all in for a hug. Lauren’s  briefcase dug into Hamilton’s side but he didn’t mind. 

“Alright, break it up!” said Mulligan. He was grinning.

“Are we alone?” he asked. 

“There’s no one here. I made sure that the cameras are filled with empty footage, so don’t worry,” Lafayette said. 

“George’s first mistake,” said Mulligan in awe.

“Let’s blow this popsicle stand,” said Laurens.

Lafayette made a face. 

“There are no popsicles here? What do you mean?” Lafayette asked.

Laurens made a somehow funnier face.

“It’s a euphemism for-” he  started.

“It's a figure of speech. That means that we need to leave as soon as possible.” Mulligan glared at Laurens.

“Where’s our getaway car then? Our epic exit?” said Hamilton.

“You’re going to love this.” replied Mulligan.

*

“So.” started Hamilton.

They left the building without anyone giving them a glance or time of day. At least, it helped that there was no one anywhere.

The car was a regular blue sedan, blending in perfectly with the empty parking lot. It looked like it was owned by a family of four and smelt like it was owned by an irresponsible teenager. 

It was genius.

“We’re leaving without doing anything? Not even some petty arson?” he turned to Mulligan, who shrugged unhelpfully.

“Sometimes the best endings are the quiet ones,” said Lafayette. 

“Untrue. We just can’t have Hamilton getting into unnecessary trouble,” said Laurens as he climbed into shotgun. 

“Unnecessary trouble?” said Hamilton.

“Well, we may have had gone against direct orders of a superior to come get you,” mumbled Mulligan.

Hamilton punched Mulligan softly, grinning the whole while.

“Thought that you guys loved Washington!” said Hamilton.

“What a beautiful friendship,” sniffed Laurens. He wiped away an imaginary single tear. 

“Now come in before George comes back so I don’t have to kick his ass,” said Laurens. Hamilton slid into the back seat with Mulligan as Lafayette sat down in the driver’s seat. 

“Any last words?” said Hamilton.

“I would like to say that it is an honour working with both of you, and potentially you, Hamilton,” said Mulligan. “And English-Muffin George can go get his stuffing knocked out of him in Boston.” 

Lafayette fist-pumped. 

“I’m more American than George and I came here a year ago!” He announced.  “He should be leaving, not us immigrants! The Sons of Liberty is where you belong, Hamilton!”

Hamilton had smiled more in the last five minutes than he ever had during a shift at the grocery store.

“George should be glad he’s in Boston.” Laurens attempted to stood up before hitting his head on the car roof. The other three winced in sympathy.

“I’m going to kick his ass into next week!” he shouted, undaunted. They all cheered.

A loud beeping interrupted all of them. 

“That’s the thirty minute warning!” yelled Mulligan. “We have to get back to the apartment!” 

The car kicked into gear without as much as a sputter of protest. Hamilton hurriedly put on his seatbelt before getting swept away into the car swerving out of the parking lot. 

They were home free.

**Author's Note:**

> Will update every Wednesday and Sunday @1030 EST. yeah. Tell me if you like it! Tell me if you hate it! Tell me if you have a cat and send me a photo because cats are great! yeah


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